Tuesday Countdown, Tic Toc

I have moments of fright? Is it fright, depression or self pity?  I don't know how to get to a point of total acceptance. The tears start and stop. I have stern conversations with myself. I won't be having expanders put in as I have to have radiation therapy after this surgery.

I've been told that I can have flap reconstruction but upon researching this online, I've discovered that this may not be something I want to chance. Will it really be so bad not to have reconstruction done? I've always envied those women with small breasts and have never understood the need for all those enhancements that were being done. Is cleavage so important? I've toyed with the idea of a breast reduction as I've grown older but backed away because of the surgery that was not a necessity but more of a desire to wear a button up shirt comfortably or a dress that I didn't have to buy in two sizes larger then my waist and hips so  that it would accommodate my chest size. Maybe the time is here?

I've learned that there are a lot of women that don't feel the necessity for a reconstruction and all that it entails. My options on what I can have for this reconstruction are now a DIEP or a TRAM. John Hopkins have now stopped doing the TRAM. The transfer of skin from the stomach to the breast is a 12 hr. surgery. Nerves and blood vessels have to be reconnected. A "tummy tuck" is the added benefit but it comes with hazards which I'm not convinced is something I want to chance. Hernias and the restrictions of lifting only 20lbs, infection and necrosis of the transfer skin gives me pause. The recuperation time is twice as long as the implants that could have been done had I not had to have radiation therapy.

I haven't talked to a plastic surgeon about this. My surgeon says the main thing we are trying to do here is save my life. Cerebrally I know this. Emotionally I am not there. If I were in pain, I think this would be an easy step to take. When I needed a knee replacement, I didn't hesitate, though the pain of recuperation and therapy was expected. This is how I feel. It may be silly to others. I'm putting this in print, letters on a page which someday I will review. I may look back  on this as a shallow silly reaction to this time in my life.

My husband, bless his heart, said "Breasts are way overrated. They don't matter."

Thank you husband. You are a prize.

I've washed off the roadster and dropped the top. I'm going to drive it to the school to pick up Carrie. It won't be driven for a while. Shifting a 5 speed transmission will be something I'll try again in a couple of weeks.

Tic Toc, Tic Toc.....
It's my reaction

Monday, and a Visit to the Surgeon

It's that time. November 4th and an early appointment with the surgeon. I will find out today the details surrounding this upcoming surgery. Right now the only thing I know is the surgery date on Nov. 7th. I'll be informed of the procedure and the time to arrive at the hospital and how long I will be hospitalized. I've talked to women that have only spent the day, some had an overnight stay and some were there for 3 days.

The husband has an appointment with the dentist this afternoon and a urologist tomorrow morning while I have an appointment with  a new GYN doctor. Mine retired after being my doctor for over 20 years. We will be busy this week, to say the least.

Moving my arms above chest level will be impossible. No t shirts or pullover tops so  I have gathered button down shirts from the closets and hung them at waist level on a stand in the laundry room. Elastic waist pants will complete my "dress up". For home,  silk pajamas lay across the guest bed; easier to slide in and out of bed with silk pajamas. I've been warned that I will be able to do every little with my hands and arms after this surgery. Even opening a child proof medicine bottle will be impossible. I will have drains that will have to be milked, emptied and measured.

I keep telling myself, "six months from now, this will be but another memory". I usually make it through major surgery repeating this mantra.

I'm off to make a pot of coffee, watch the news and wait for that visit with the surgeon.
To be continued at a later date.  

This Is....

This is ..the last weekend before I have surgery.
This is ..the last weekend I will have my "real" breasts.
This is ..
At times, especially at night, I dwell long and hard on this. During the day I can keep busy. I dread it and at times, I just want it to be over and to be in the recovery stage. I will have reconstruction but it won't be until after the radiation treatments are finished. There is still a long path to travel. When the radiation begins, I won't be able to travel. I'll be committed to more then a month of treatments. More chemo will follow, something I will face when that time comes.

This is the last Friday before surgery.
This is the last Friday I will have my "real breasts".
This is....

BOO!

We looked forward all month to that last day of October. Seven little children prodded down the dirt road dressed for the cold weather, pillow cases with  only the eye holes cut out of them while the mouth remained behind the pillowcase to capture the warm breath exhaled to keep the face warm, it was Halloween.

This was no subdivision we were visiting. This was a country road with the houses being at least 1/2 mile apart. No street lights guided our way, no parents followed in a vehicle to make sure we were safe and there was no x ray machine to check our loot for poison or razors. We were country kids stumbling down that road, taking shortcuts across the icy creeks, hands numb and our paper sacks growing with the candy we collected. An orange, an apple and sometimes a popcorn ball found it's way into our sacks.

For country children in a time and an era of low income living, these treats were what we had waited all month for.

The "trick" part of this night was usually an outhouse or a bus stop upended by the older fellows wandering the night.

Many years the snow was knee deep or at best, it would be a cold dry night. It never deterred the seven of us from setting out on our long walk from house to house.

A storm blew through here last night. We knew it was coming and would be followed by lower temperatures. Some of the surrounding parishes decided to have their Halloween night on the 30th; the night before the storm.
Lafayette Parish held tight to their schedule of having it on the 31st. The storm blew in last night, the rain poured and poured; the streets held water and the night was miserable. The parish cancelled the event at the last moment.

I turned off the porch light and stood on the carport watching it rain. Memories of early Halloween nights buzzed through my head. The neighbors had small children and all the porch lights were on for their friends' children to stop by. Tables and chairs graced the front lawns, the homeowners visiting with friends while waiting for the ghosts and goblins.  All those children are grown and the porch lights are off. There are only two of us on this street that participate. I live in an "old" neighborhood with very few children around. I miss the sounds they make; the laughter and the chatter.
I munched on a few of the mini chocolate bars that filled the long wicker basket on the coffee table, slipped into a pair of pajamas, turned the mini blinds open at my bedside, and alternated between watching the rain through that window and the TV across the room.

November 1st! The store shelves will be filled with Christmas offerings. One holiday past, two more  on the way and the merchants will be busy. 
It's time for me to collect Carrie and deposit her at her school. I enjoy this time with her. Sometimes she is talkative and some times we ride in silence, the only sound the radio station she prefers.

 I'm gone!